


Show Night

by TheodoreBear



Category: The Misfits (Podcast)
Genre: 1920s AU, Fluff, GBG - Freeform, M/M, McTorious, One Shot, fitz and swagger are mentioned, gay baby gang - Freeform, jay also crossdresses dont kill me, misfits - Freeform, not a real au, this is just a short thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 13:22:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18592096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheodoreBear/pseuds/TheodoreBear





	Show Night

  Harsh neon light bled through the curtains of the bar. People in suits and glittery dresses were chattering inside, their conversations blending into one jumbled mess. The dull tone of a piano at the stage gave the atmosphere a calm feeling, much less chaotic than it would be without the music. A saxophone, played by a young blond man, accompanied the brunet pianist. Outside rain made the sidewalk shine with the bright orange bar sign. Stars glowed dim past the light of the tall apartment complexes and office buildings. People held umbrellas to shelter themselves from the downpour, but a group just kept their jackets tight. Water soaked into their leather coats as the bar door opened with a cheery chime, and the group stepped inside.

  One of the men swept his wet hair from his dark eyes, removing the leather hat from his head. His beard was kept well, trimmed only this morning. A pendent of a silver falcon was clipped to the collar of his jacket, matching with the other men he arrived with. The group split up among the bar and he walked into the crowd of tables straight to the tender. 

   “Evenin’, sir,” the bartender greeted.  _ Nick _ , his tag told the man. The mafioso just smiled back to Nick. “What can I getcha?”

   “Thinkin’ a fireball whisky to start off the night.”

   “Right on. I’ll be right with you, sir.”

The mafioso, Matthew Notorious, just nodded. He settled on one of the bar stools. The job for the night was reconnaissance. He felt the revolver in his coat rest against his thigh as he surveyed the bar. Various people he recognized in all different places. Magazines, newspapers, criminal files, hit lists yet to be completed. The glass of fireball was set in front of him, and with a thank-you to Nick, he sipped it. The alcohol’s taste bit at his tongue, and he winced back the drink. This speakeasy was probably crawling with Gumshoes. Always something going on in here. Matt saw this bar’s name in headlines all the time; he knew it was risky coming here.

 

  With another sip of his drink, his attention was caught. Not by someone in the crowd, not by anyone entering or leaving the bar, but by someone on stage. Someone with curled black hair, glimmering deep eyes in the spotlight of the set. A shining gold and orange flapper dress, likely from a few decades ago in the 1920s, fit around a perfectly curvy body. A feather in the dark hair, a bold orange like the bar’s sign outside. Bright red lips just behind the microphone. The singer was having a short word with the sax player, a tall New Zealand kid. Matt’s seen him before whenever he comes here, as well as the pianist. They’re a duo: Eric Matthews and Cameron Fitzgerald, officially hired by the bar as late night performers. But the one center stage.. Matt’s never seen him before.

   Him.

Matt set down his drink on the bar, turning slightly on the barstool to face the stage. He had a round face that was perfectly highlighted by a touch of gold makeup, a lovely contrast to the red lips. He stood delicately with the dress hugging his curves. Matt needed to know who he was. Cameron and Eric had begun playing at a slow, chilled pace. Some in the table crowd glanced to the stage in response to the music. Whistles to the one up front, calls and cheers. He only smiled his bright red smile.

  He sang a jazz song that Matt couldn’t recognize. Sure, he didn’t listen to radio much. He didn’t have much downtime to be able to pay attention to any of it. No matter that, the singer had the voice of an angel. His voice was gentle, capturing the crowd and Matt’s heart. The song took Matt’s hand and spun him around and held him close, careful. He leaned on the bar, turning the alcohol in his glass slowly as he listened. Matt caught the singer’s eyes for a moment. The spotlight left a mischievous glimmer in the stranger’s dark eyes, and the mafioso sent him a wink. The performer only smiled around his lyrics, and after a moment his eyes were back to scanning the crowd of sitting people. Even then, Matt could still see the singer’s gaze flicker back to him. Matt couldn’t help himself from staring. His eyes traveling down the stranger’s body, watching his lips move, letting himself be mesmerized by the gleam in the other’s eyes. 

 

  After few more songs, the stranger took a cautious bow to the clapping crowd. He thanked the two musicians, shaking their hands before his heels clicked him down the stage steps. The sax and the pianist kept playing, the atmosphere still hanging on strong. Matt took a short sip of his drink as the golden boy sat beside him at the bar. He set his glass down as the singer ordered a whiskey. Matt was sent a smirking glance, and he huffed a laugh. A glass of honey-coloured liquid was sent in front of the performer, and he took a gentle sip of it before turning his head to the mafioso.

   “You usually give boys that look?” The silky voice asked Matt. Matt laughed again, shaking his head and downing the rest of his fireball. He placed the glass upside-down on his napkin. 

   “Only the angels.”

   “Oh?”

Matt shifted in his set to turn to the singer. A teasing smile was on those bright red lips, which left a stain on his glass. His heels were crossed under the stool, and his hair curled just perfectly to cover a bit of one eye. “I’ve been looking for an angel,” the golden boy spoke quietly, setting his drink down. “Know one, handsome?”

  “If I got your name, maybe I could recommend one,” Matt leaned forward against the bar. He smiled when he heard the other’s laugh. Sweet, bubbly, happy. Matt hasn’t seen happy in a while, so this was refreshing. The singer put his hand out, and Matt took it, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

   “The name’s Jay,” he said simply.

   “Well, I’m Matt.”

Jay popped his lips, sending Matt a wide smile. “Matt. A handsome name for a handsome man.” Jay crossed his legs, turning to face the mafioso completely. He leaned on his hand, an elbow on the bar, as he continued. “Y’know, Matty, if you stick around for one more show, we could get to know each other a bit better.”

   “You think?”

   “I know, sugar.”

Matt reached for his drink when it was replaced by the bartender. He raised his eyebrows, taking a gulp. His glass clinked back on the wood, and he leaned back against the bar. “I think I can stay around for an angel. God’s orders.” Matt sent Jay a wink as he stood up. Jay giggled softly, pressing a red kiss to Matt’s cheek before he retreated back on to stage.


End file.
